The Fellowship Of The Reins
by Elf Eye
Summary: At the end of the War of the Ring, the horses share their perceptions of their riders.


**This is not the story about Legolas that I promised, but it _will _be posted shortly, I swear upon the Silmaril of Beren. I got sidetracked by one of _MoroTheWoldGod's _stories in which Shadowfax meets Bill the Pony. With apologies to _Moro_, here is a conversation between several of the horses featured in LOTR, either book or movie version. **

The War of the Ring was over, and the horses had been turned out to pasture for the time being. Gratefully they gathered together to enjoy the sunshine, the fresh grass, and the fellowship.

"Soooo," said Shadowfax, "what was it like anyway, kissing that human?"

Brego drew his lips back from his teeth in a gesture of disgust. "Well, it was easy to tell that he is a carnivore. Meat eaters have such stinky breath!"

The other horses tossed their heads in agreement.

"But, Shadowfax," Brego continued, "how many times do I have to tell you—I was merely checking to see whether the human required mouth-to-mouth resuscitation!"

The other horses nickered skeptically. Arod swished his tale in Brego's muzzle.

"Sure, Brego, sure. That's not what I heard from the eagle that happened to be fishing nearby. _He _said that it looked like a very tender moment between you two!"

All the horses whinnied except for Brego, who tossed his mane indignantly and trotted to the other side of the meadow.

"I'm surprised that Brego still has any mane left to toss," observed Hasufel. "The eagle said that the human really had a death grip on it."

"Talk about death grip," complained Arod, "that Dwarf has been digging his heels into my flanks. It's not enough that I've got to carry two riders, but, no, the second rider has to be equinophobic."

"Oh, don't complain about carrying two," snorted Shadowfax. "That Elf is downright skinny—he can't weigh much at all. Bet he wouldn't even leave footprints in snow!"

"It's true that _he_ doesn't weigh much, but, believe me, that Dwarf more than makes up for it."

"It's all those axes he lugs about, probably," suggested Hasufel.

"No," declared Arod vehemently. "Haven't you noticed that at every opportunity the Dwarf is gnoshing on bread and cheese and guzzling ale? He's heavy for his height." Arod shuddered. "And he drops crumbs in my coat all the time. I'm always in need of a good currying after bearing that wretched Dwarf"

"The Elf, though, he seems fairly clean," said Shadowfax.

"Oh, yes, _he's _all right as far as that is concerned. But he has given me _such_ a crick in my neck."

"How did he do that?" asked Hasufel.

"He thinks nothing of seizing my headstall and vaulting onto my back. I'm sure _he_ thinks it's a very dashing thing to do, but, believe me, I wish he'd be a little less acrobatic."

"Yes, that Elf can be a bit of a daredevil," agreed Brego, who had at last rejoined them. "Did you catch the action the Field of Pelennor?"

"Do you mean when he leaped onto that Mûmak and brought it down single-handedly? _That_ was impressive!" declared Shadowfax.

Arod snorted.

"Fine. But that was a foe. _I'm_ not the enemy, and I don't appreciate it when he performs such tricks on me. One of these days I'm going to dump him right onto the ground—in fact, there's a nice rocky patch where I've been thinking of pitching him. Serve him right if he landed right on a rock. Be even better if the Dwarf landed on top of him, too. Then he'd appreciate how _my _ribs feel sometimes."

"What about you, Shadowfax?" asked Brego. "Have _you_ got any complaints?"

"Weee-ell," said Shadowfax, "I don't like to whinge—but I must say that I wish the durned wizard would quit summoning me with that blasted high-pitched whistle of his. Hurts my ears, it does! For once I wish he'd just bellow, 'Shadowfax'!"

"Also," added Shadowfax, who was beginning to paw the ground, "that wizard is forever in a hurry. It's always, 'Show them your mettle, Shadowfax' and 'Ride like a horse of legend, Shadowfax' and 'Be like one of the Mearas of old, Shadowfax' and 'Show them the meaning of speed, Shadowfax!" Agitated now, Shadowfax whickered and tossed his mane from side to side.

"Now, now," said Hasufel soothingly, "he means to compliment you."

"Well," snorted Shadowfax, "I could do with fewer compliments and more rest. Do you have _any idea_ how many leagues it is from Edoras to Minas Tirith? Next time he wants me to make a run like that, I'm going to tell him to take an eagle! But you, Hasufel, you haven't said anything about your experiences. How has the man treated you?"

Hasufel rolled his eyes.

"Brego probably didn't notice this because the human had just taken a bath in the river. For me, though, most of the time I am on the verge of breaking into a gallop in a futile attempt to leave that Man's odor behind me. I have actually tried on several occasions to race toward Orcs because they smell better. The Man mistakes this for spirit on my part, but it is anything but!"

The horses reared and plunged about the meadow, so great was their mirth. At last, they quieted, although their flanks continued to heave with silent laughter. Finally, Shadowfax turned to Windfola, a Rohan horse like Arod, Brego, and Hasufel.

"You have been very quiet, little one. Have you nothing to say about your experiences in this war? You were in the Battle of the Pelennor, were you not?"

"Well," said Windfola thoughtfully, "I bore two riders to Minas Tirith. I cannot complain that their combined weight was very great—one was a lady, the other a hobbit."

"Ah, yes." Shadowfax nodded sagely. "I bore one of those hobbits as well. It is true that they do not add much to one's burden."

"And," added Windfola, "I cannot complain that they smelled very badly."

The other horses looked at Windfola expectantly.

Windfola's head drooped. "I cannot complain at all. But I do have sorrows."

"Sorrows?" asked Shadowfax.

"Yes. I miss my friend Stybba, a hill pony but a doughty one. Stybba had to remain behind in Rohan."

"You shall see Stybba again," said Arod encouragingly.

"Aye, I do know that—but I will never see Snowmane again. I was there when Snowmane died by the side of King Theoden."

All the horses fell silent. Arod draped his neck over Windfola's in a gesture of comfort. Tails swished softly and in unison. At that moment, a human came into the meadow. It was the one who had ridden both Brego and Hasufel. He bore apples for them all, and the sweet odor of apples had rubbed off upon him. Gratefully the horses gathered round and accepted his gift. When he was gone, Brego said softly, "They are really not so bad, these humans."

"Or these wizards," added Shadowfax.

"Or Elves and Dwarves," said Arod.

"Or Hobbits, either," said Windfola.

"Indeed," added Hasufel, "they are all brave and try to show loyalty to us as best they can—given their own limited understanding, of course. Is it not true, Windfola, that Snowmane was given a noble burial on the field of battle?"

"Aye, that is so."

Fervently then, Arod declared, "All hail the fellowship of horses and riders!"

And with that the horses joined together to neigh in such a fashion that, as Shadowfax thought with satisfaction, any within hearing doubtless must have believed that the Mearas of old had arisen and galloped again across the fields of Middle Earth!


End file.
